The Escort
by TheAddict4Dramatics
Summary: 'The girl begins to come too slowly and rolls onto her back revealing everything for him to see. Her eyelids blink lazily at him but she doesn't seem at all startled to be waking up in an unfamiliar place with a stranger watching her sleep. "You're Haymitch Abernathy." She states matter-of-factly..."Yes and you're naked." He counters right back.' HG Hayffie AU - totally random.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.**

 **Note: Very random HG AU in which Effie is an escort in a much more modern sense of the word. Happy reading.**

The Escort

It's the early hours of the morning by the time Haymitch finally wanders back to his hotel suite. His head is pounding from the night before and his knuckles are slightly grazed, suggesting he has had a disagreement with either a person or a solid inanimate object. He cannot remember which of course. Perhaps that is for the best.

His Tributes are dead. Again. And he is not. Even though he is pretty sure he drank enough last night that that shouldn't be the case anymore.

As he reaches the doorway to his temporary bedroom he stops suddenly. There before him is a naked girl sound asleep in his bed. No sheets or blankets cover her modesty; they are thrown somewhere amidst the disarray that is the rest of the room. Despite the fact she lays face down Haymitch can tell this woman is young, younger than him and definitely in good shape. She wears a bright, bubble-gum pink wig that is somehow still perfectly in place on her head.

The girl begins to come too slowly and rolls onto her back revealing everything for him to see. Her eyelids blink lazily at him but she doesn't seem at all startled to be waking up in an unfamiliar place with a stranger watching her sleep.

"You're Haymitch Abernathy." She states matter-of-factly.

Not a complete stranger then. She knows who he is at once but that is hardly a surprise. Everybody knows who he is.

She continues to make absolutely no attempt to cover herself. He's got to hand it to her, whoever she is, she's got front.

"Yes and you're naked." He counters right back. He supposes there are worst things to come back to than a beautiful, naked girl waiting in his bed.

"What are you doing here?" The girl asks, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and smudging her makeup slightly in the process.

Capitol make-up. If the wig doesn't give it away the clownish cosmetics certainly do. Beautiful, naked, it was too much to ask for her to be District too he supposes.

"This is my hotel suite. What are you doing here?"

"I'm assuming you must have paid for my services last night then."

"Services? What are you a prostitute or something?"

"No, I'm an escort." She says as if it's the most obvious thing in all of Panem. Perhaps to Capitols it is but _he_ doesn't have a clue who or what she is.

"The difference being?" Haymitch scoffs a little defensively, he's getting the distinct impression she is having fun with his ignorance. Nevertheless if she really is a hooker then he has to admit she's the prettiest damn hooker he's ever seen.

"I cost more. A _lot_ more."

He bets she does.

"Well I didn't pay for your services last night because I do not have to pay for that."

And isn't that the truth.

He is the Victor of a Quarter Quell. He doesn't doubt that he'd never be lonely for that kind of company ever again if he didn't want to be. Especially here in the Capitol where he seems to fulfil every rough and ready District kink that an alarming amount of Capitol women appear to possess.

Whilst he'd been speaking she had sat up and reached for her disregarded underwear lying by the side of the bed. As she stands to slip it on he cannot help but be a little disappointed she is covering up. Even with the wig and smudged makeup she is still undeniably gorgeous.

"Well somebody did. Pay for my services I mean." She says indicating to wad of rolled up money on the bedside table. An insane amount of money. She clearly isn't lying when she says she costs more if that is her average takings for a night.

The money is surrounded by half a dozen empty champagne bottles. Champagne really isn't Haymitch's style so presumably it had been purchased along with her time last night. It's no wonder she can't remember exactly what had happened the night before.

"Probably Chaff…" Haymitch mutters to himself.

Chaff is exactly the kind of person that would have the balls to purchase a load of Champagne and an expensive hooker, take them both back to someone else's hotel suite for the night and then leave them there come morning.

"Oh no it definitely wasn't Chaff." The girl replies, her back now turned to him as she pulls up her dress.

"You know Chaff?"

"Vaguely." She turns her head over her shoulder to look at him. "And trust me Chaff cannot afford me." She shoots him a suggestive wink that he finds himself smiling at.

She has cheek this one. And he always has liked them with cheek.

"What kind of prostitute…"

This time she shoots him a look of complete scorn that actually makes him want to retreat a little bit. He holds up his hands in mock surrender but is chuckling to himself.

"… Sorry _escort._ What kind of _escort_ gets so fucked up on the job that she can't even remember who her client was?"

"Haymitch Abernathy lecturing someone else on alcohol consumption. Now I've really heard it all."

Her throwaway comment angers him because she doesn't know him. His little problem with alcohol is not so little these days and certainly not a secret anymore but it remains none of her damn business.

"Besides, what does it matter? They're gone and the money is here. Job done."

She picks up the money and puts it in her handbag before pulling on her ridiculously high shoes. She doesn't quite look decent but certainly a lot more presentable than he would have thought possible when he stumbled upon her only a few moments ago.

She comes teetering towards him.

"Goodbye Haymitch Abernathy…"

He chuckles to himself again as it becomes apparent she is incapable of calling him anything other than his full name. His momentary anger at her comment regarding his drinking is gone, erased by an odd fondness he is feeling for the utter ridiculousness of this woman.

"… Let's do it again sometime." She teases as she brushes past him.

As she reaches for the door handle she stops abruptly and turns back to him. Haymitch notices that all the light hearted jest is gone from her face.

"I'm sorry about Martha…" She says seriously.

Haymitch freezes at the sound of his latest Tribute's name. She obviously wasn't so fucked up that she missed the fourteen year old's death late last night. The shock of hearing her mention it overrides any of the other emotions he would have normally had at this moment – anger, regret, guilt.

"…She was doing so well. I thought…"

The woman trails off and gets a very far off look in her eye. She looks devastated, as if she knew the girl personally which Haymitch knows cannot be true. She probably just had some money riding on her or something. Though why she would back a fourteen year old from District Twelve is entirely beyond him.

"…Such a pointless waste…" She whispers so quietly he only just catches it. He could swear there are tears in her eyes. "…Well anyway, I'm sorry."

And with that she is gone, leaving him even more stunned than before. He has never heard anyone from the Capitol say something like that about the Games before. _Pointless._ Capitols never considered the Games pointless. And they certainly never saw the loss of District life as a waste. The loss of District life was pure entertainment for those people. Yet this mystery girl didn't seem the least bit entertained by it, in fact she seemed almost remorseful for it.

At once Haymitch realises he must find out exactly who this girl is. He's already plotting in his head how he could see her again.

First he'll have to start with Chaff…


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.**

 **Author's note: This idea won't seem to leave me alone so I've decided to extent this little AU one-shot into a series of little AU one-shots. I've got the next couple of chapters planned so we'll see how we go. Happy reading.**

The Escort

Chapter Two:

 _Two years later…_

The evening is beginning to have a disturbing sense of déjà vu for Haymitch and it is starting to make him feel sick. At least that is what he's telling himself, that it's the déjà vu that is making him sick and not the copious amounts of alcohol he is consuming. Another year, another Hunger Games, another two of his tributes dead and gone. The latest pair lasting an even shorter amount of time than usual – and that was usually short enough.

Haymitch stretches out on his bar stool, contemplating just how much more he will have to drink to achieve his goal of passing out, when he sees her come stumbling into the bar. He hasn't seen her since he found her stark naked in his bed two years ago and at first he doesn't recognise her. This time she is wearing an electric blue wig, long and straight, falling all the way down her back and her make-up is bolder and harsher than before, blue streaks framing her eyes, the same shade glittering her lips. Yet despite all of this she doesn't look at all glamourous.

He realises that the stumbling is in fact limping, that the glitter lipstick is hiding a swollen lip and that the extra streaks of blue on her cheeks are not intentional but caused by the tears silently falling from her eyes.

She makes slow progress across the bar to the lift on the far side of the room. The bar is quiet and no one, bar Haymitch, pays her any attention. He jumps out of his chair and is across the room in no time, moving much quicker than he would normally be capable of after drinking. He slips into the lift that she has placed herself in just as the doors are closing. She startles when she sees him but recognises him instantly and appears to relax a little bit. It is clear she does not see him as a threat.

"Haymitch Abernathy." She greets him and he smiles because apparently she can still only address him by his full name. There is a false brightness in her voice which he finds ridiculous as she is clearly still crying.

"Effie Trinket." He replies.

He is not ignorant about who she is like last time they met. He knows all about her now. Knows that she is one of the Capitol's most exclusive and sought after Escorts. Chosen and sold by Snow himself to a very selective club.

"What happened to you?" He asks seriously and she gives a nonchalant shrug which appears just as absurd as her tone of voice sounds.

"Interesting client."

"Interesting like he used you as a punch bag?" For some unknown reason Haymitch finds himself angered by her obvious mistreatment.

"Interesting like he wanted to ride me like a horse. A horse that was losing a very important race." It is only then that he notices the mark on her cheek that looks suspiciously like a riding crop imprint on her skin.

"Son a bitch!" Haymitch exclaims with genuine rage and Effie raises her eyebrows in response. "Why the hell would you let that bastard get away with something like that?"

She rolls her eyes at him.

"It's what he pays the very high price for the privilege of… whatever he wants to do to me."

"There isn't a price high enough in the world that means he gets to do that to you sweetheart." Haymitch replies before realising exactly what he has said. _Sweetheart_ where the hell has that come from?

"Everyone has a price." Effie replies defiantly, seemingly ignoring the term of endearment that has just accidentally escaped his lips. "You're a Victor, surely you know that better than most."

Haymitch looks away, unable to meet her eye any longer. She's right, of course. He does understand that just about everyone can brought in some way or another. Snow owns them all – Capitol or District, Snow owns them all. Effie moves passed him to exit the lift as the doors open at her stop. Her arm brushes his and before he can stop himself he places his hand on it to stop her leaving. He doesn't understand why but he wants to keep talking to her, to help her. Besides which his tributes are dead and he has nothing else, bar booze, to fill his time with.

"Let me come back to the room with you. I'll help you get cleaned up." For the second time in so many minutes she raises her eyebrows at him. He gives a little chuckle but it sounds off and nervous. "Look I've had some experience cleaning up after a brawl, okay?"

"I'm going to go to bed Haymitch." This time it's his turn to raise his eyebrows as she finally addresses him by his first name only. "I'm not working anymore tonight."

There is a moment of silence as he tries to work out what she is saying. Following this there is a horrible moment in which he comprehends exactly what she means.

"No, I don't want to sleep with you, you daft tart!" He exclaims, the denial all but screaming in his voice. "I want to help you."

Effie pulls her arm free of his grasp in clear annoyance.

"Why? You don't know me."

"Maybe I'm just a sucker for helping a damsel in distress." Haymitch replies with a cocky smirk but he can tell straightaway that it is the wrong thing to say. Effie leans back in towards him, a sneer appearing on her face:

"And what about Esther?" All the air in the small lift feels as if it has been sucked out at the mention of his latest Tribute's name. "She looked like she was pretty distressed today. Where was your help then?"

Once again he moves before he can stop himself; the back of his hand collides with her cheek and mouth, splitting her already swollen lip and making it bleed. She retaliates in no way, she simply turns and walks out of the lift and down the corridor. There is no shock on her face. She had expected him to respond in such a way, had goaded him into. A stranger raising a fist to her is clearly something she is very used too. The sick feeling in Haymitch's stomach is fast growing into full blown nausea. He feels the shame burning on his own face.

"Wait!" He calls after her but she does not. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean… I'm sorry…"

He catches up with her easily and places his hand on her arm once more, trying to do it as delicately as possible but still needing to exert some force to get her to stop and face him. When she finally does she looks so resigned and over it that he finds himself wanting to cry with the guilt of it all. He cannot remember at all why he even followed her into the lift in the first place.

"Don't you have a stupor you should be drinking yourself into?" Effie asks after a few moments of silence. He doesn't answer. "Don't let me keep you from it." With this she yanks her arm free again and walks off down the corridor without a backward glance.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.**

 **Happy reading!**

The Escort

Chapter Three

 _One year later…_

Another year, another Games, another soulless Capitol bar, and another evening in which Haymitch finds himself drinking into oblivion. At least he is planning to drink himself into oblivion. The night is still young and he has some work to do in that respect.

In fact he is just settling into to his third drink of the evening when he feels someone sit down on the barstool next to his. He doesn't bother to look up, he knows it is no one he would want to speak to.

"A glass of champagne please," an overtly feminine voice requests of the barman. "And another whiskey for the gentlemen."

This does cause him to look up and he sees Effie sitting next to him. She is wearing a natural (ish) looking wig – lilac in colour, shoulder length with a loose wave running through it. It could almost pass for her own hair but somehow he knows it isn't. _Somehow_ – it's not like he has ever seen her actual hair. Her make-up, whilst still too heavy for his personal preference, is quite subtle too he supposes, for Capitol standards anyhow. He hasn't seen her in a year and he has almost forgotten just how beautiful she is. The force of it hits him anew like a swift blow to the stomach and for a small moment he is actually breathless. He can't help but wonder what she would look like without the wig or cosmetics. He concludes he probably wouldn't be able to handle the sight of it in the slightest.

"Nice wig." He comments when he finally finds his voice.

"Thank you. Nice stain." Effie counters right back. Haymitch makes a half-hearted attempt to clean the alcohol spillage from his shirtfront. He huffs in annoyance at his lack of success. "What are you doing?"

"What does it look like?" He snaps looking back up at her. His eyes find her lips and it reminds him of their last encounter a year ago and of his actions. He is forced to look away again in shame.

"You do realise that you still have a Tribute alive? Shouldn't you be out there finding sponsors of something?"

"Yeah 'cause that will make all the difference." Haymitch replies bitterly, finishing the rest of his drink in preparation for the next. "Scrawny kids from Twelve win all the time."

"They do sometimes. You're living proof of that."

"And I've been paying for it ever since."

"Of that I have no doubt." Effie answers in a quieter voice but it makes him look up again. She sounds so sincere, just like the first time he met her and she mentioned Martha and the wastefulness of the Games. Once more he is struggling to figure her out and it drives him crazy.

"Thank you." Effie says to the bartender as he places the drinks in front of them. She reaches for her glass and takes sip of champagne.

Haymitch cannot help but study her as she does so. The outfit she is wearing is very specifically chosen to go with her hair and make-up – it creates an overall look. He has been part of enough Games to understand that is what one should be aiming to achieve – a 'look'. It is obvious she is waiting to meet a client and the thought makes him uncomfortable, just as it has every time he has thought about her profession since the last time he saw her, which is a lot more than he would readily admit.

"I remember your Games you know, I was twelve…" She says suddenly as she begins to get a very far-off look in her eye. "I was rooting for you from the beginning." To this he raises his eyebrows; he was hardly a hot favourite going into his Games. "That distance, moody, broody thing you had going for you, the teenage angst of it all really did for me." This time Haymitch smirks. "And of course all of my friends and family thought I was crazy to back the boy from District Twelve, especially as there were double the amount of Careers as usual… But then you won, proved them all wrong, proved me right." The look on her face suddenly changes, becomes less nostalgic. "It was the last Games that I watched at home. I started working the next year."

His eyes pop and his stomach drops at the revelation.

"You started doing this when you were thirteen?!" He exclaims loudly.

"He likes us young." She doesn't have to specify who _he_ is. Snow. It's always Snow, the bastard that owns them all, he and she more than most.

"That's not young, that's…"

"So young that when he inevitably gets bored of us after a couple of years, we're still young enough to feel dangerous for the men he then sells us to." Effie replies with a dead and detached voice.

"Not you." Haymitch contradicts. "He didn't get bored of you after a couple of years. I hear he kept you for himself a lot longer than that." He has learnt even more about her than before. She is notorious for being Snow's absolute favourite for near a decade. "What did you do to be so special?"

"I bit him." She states simply. Haymitch laughs aloud, he cannot help it, it's just about the last thing he'd expected to hear. But it's a soulless laugh. Somehow he knows what's coming next is going to take away all the jest. "The first time he tried to have sex with me I… I was _terrified_ and I bit him. So hard it drew blood from the hand that was trying to take off my dress. And he laughed. He laughed so much I thought he'd never stop." Effie looks away before continuing. "He told me I was wild and untameable – like a District girl. He liked that, he liked that for a long time. But eventually I became too old and too used to the game – I was no longer a girl or untameable… He'd tamed me and thus was bored of me."

"Fuck!" The exclamation causes her to look back up at him. "Your life is just as screwed up as mine."

"Yes probably." She agrees with a little chuckle because what else could she do but laugh. Laugh and drink. There was nothing else.

"How do you still do it?"

"What else would I do? Where else would I go? I'm clearly not going to throw myself in front of a speeding train. If I was I would have done it already. I would have done it years ago."

"Why haven't you?" Haymitch asks with some trepidation. He's not sure he really wants to know the answer to that question but he's asked it now.

"Because I'm a coward." He's never understood a sentiment more. He feels exactly the same way himself; too shit scared to end it all despite having nothing to live for. Is there a more pathetic existence to inhabit? He doubts it.

"Me too." He quietly agrees as Effie downs rest of her drink.

"My client is here." She declares with false brightness.

Haymitch turns to see an overweight, pompous looking asshole in an expensive suit watching them. His stomach turns slightly and he has to fight the urge to stop her getting up, to drag her back to his room and lock her inside so she'll never have to do what she's about to do again.

"Goodbye Haymitch Abernathy." He smiles at the return of his full name.

"I'm sorry about your lip, about what I did before…" She cuts him off with a roll of her eyes. She's over it of course. She was over it two seconds after he had done it but needs to say sorry for it anyway. She places hand on his arm and leans down to talk to him

"I know what you're doing with Jacob." He flinches slightly at the mention of his remaining Tribute. "You think that if you don't try it will somehow make it easier when he dies but you're wrong. I think it will make it harder." He looks up at her but doesn't respond. "Have your drink Haymitch and then go and find some sponsors." With that she leaves him.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.**

 **Happy reading!**

The Escort

Chapter Four

 _One year later…_

As Haymitch opens the door to her he can instantly tell by her face that she is surprised to see him. She recovers quickly though and plasters on what he has come to recognise as her 'escort' smile.

"Mr Abernathy," Effie purrs, with easy and effortless sex appeal. He grins at his upgraded address now he is a paying client.

"Miss Trinket." He replies as he steps aside to let her in.

As she enters she looks around at the luxurious hotel suite – it's the penthouse and it has cost him a fortune – Effie being Effie knows an expensive thing when she sees it of course and turns back to him sporting a facial expression that clearly reads impressed.

"Nice digs." Haymitch nods in response but doesn't say anything. For a few moments they simply stand there in silence looking at each other. At last Effie begins speaking again: "Your message about my attire was a little vague… am I natural enough?"

She is certainly wearing minimal make-up, for her, but it is still too much for his liking. And she is still wearing a wig – platinum blonde with highly stylised curls. The dress she sports isn't a ball gown but it isn't simple either. In short she is not what he would consider natural at all but he supposes in the Capitol it would pass for such a description.

"It's a start." He drawls in a voice that is much flirtier than he intended. "I'd have preferred your real hair though."

Effie makes a face that clearly shows she is horrified at the very idea. It's rather comical and he cannot help the smile it provokes from him.

"I never show my real hair."

"Not even when it's asked for?"

"It's never asked for." She scoffs as if it is the most ridiculous thing she has ever heard.

He finds himself standing in silence and studying her once again. She stands her ground and doesn't shy away from the intense attention he is giving her but then he supposes she is more than used to such attention. The trouble is, though she has made an effort to follow his request like the true professional she is, it just won't do. The wig and the clothes and the rest of it are still too distracting. He wants to feel like he is talking to a person, not a Capitol doll.

"There's a robe on the back of the bathroom door – put it on and lose that monstrosity of a dress. Lose the wig and the make-up too." The horrified expression returns to her face.

"Haymitch I already told you I don't lose the wig and make-up for anybody, I…"

"I'm a paying client so it's what I say goes, right?" She does not answer him. "I'm not going to strap you down and ride you like a horse, which you seem more than happy to oblige too, I just want you to take off your ridiculous wig."

He knows it is harsh to mention the horse client – he had seen her just after and it was obvious she wasn't more than happy to oblige to that, but she had and he needs her to oblige to this. His Tributes are fucked once again, he is gagging for a drink and he just wants her to lose the Capitol-ness so he can be with her and forget, for a couple of hours, the hell that is his life.

"Fine." She replies at last, clearly angry with him. "But I warn you I look ugly and plain without them and when you see me like that you will not want to sleep with me."

"Well it will be an easy night for you then, won't it princess?"

Effie goes into bathroom and slams the door after her for good measure. She takes several minutes, all of which Haymitch spends pacing the length of the roomy suite. When she at last emerges again, to Haymitch's surprise she has actually followed his instructions; she has changed the dress for the dressing gown, taken off her wig and scrubbed her face clean of all cosmetics.

His surprise at her compliance however, is completely overshadowed by his awe at seeing her this way. She is, put simply, the most stunning thing he has ever seen. She looks smaller and more vulnerable and he realises just how much she uses those things as her armour and yet she is still incomprehensibly beautiful and alluring to him. Her hair is a warm, honey-blonde colour, running just past her shoulders with a natural wave in it and it looks impossibly soft. She's obviously tried to make the oversized, fluffy white robe as appealing as she could by letting the opening at the front run dangerous low. It is entirely distracting.

He walks forward and gently closes the front of the dressing gown. She looks away and he can see her cheeks burning red.

"I did try and warn you." She says in voice that is much too small for her and he doesn't like it one bit. "I need those things to make me…"

"You don't need them one bit Effie. You're so much better without them." He tells her sincerely. She looks up at him in genuine surprise and disbelief but doesn't respond.

Haymitch walks over to the table in the middle of the room that has a bottle of what he has learnt is her favourite champagne. "Champagne?" He offers and she nods in response. They settle on the floor, either side of the low table and he pops the champagne, pouring her a glass and then one of whisky for himself. "To you." He toasts and they both drink in silence.

"Why did you bring me here? The first time we met I remember you telling me rather forcefully that you don't need to pay for the services I offer."

"I don't." Haymitch replies immediately. Even with his ever growing dependence on alcohol and his notoriety for it, that is still true – he is still the Victor of a Quarter Quell after all.

"Then why am I here?"

"Because I wanted to talk to you and have a drink with you and you seem so goddamn busy at the moment it appeared to be my only opportunity." He has seen her briefly a couple of times since arriving in the Capitol for this year's Games but never for longer than a few minutes, she's always dashing off to meet a client it seemed.

"So… you don't want to sleep with me?" Effie asks, unsure.

"No."

That is fast becoming one of the biggest lies he has ever told and he's certainly told a few, he is having to stop himself jumping her there and then. But the look of relief on her face that she will not have to perform tonight proves to him he has made the right decision. The last thing she needs in her life is another person that wants to sleep with her. She needs a friend and dear god so does he.

"Was it that awful? The idea of the sleeping with me?" He jokes, clearly referring to her relief at his revelation. Effie breaks out into the biggest and most genuine smile he has ever seen her produce.

"No." She denies. "Not at all. I'm just grateful for the night off." She continues to beam at him and he feels something inside him drop. It was dangerous, whatever the hell it is he is doing with her. He is starting to care about her, really care about her and if Snow ever finds out he'd destroy them both.

"Well I'd be grateful for the drinking buddy." He replies at last, suddenly feeling guilty for bringing her here.

"Deal!" She agrees at once, downing the rest of her glass.

It cannot last – this crush or friendship or whatever it is – it cannot last. He knows that but somehow he knows that he's not going to be able to stop it either. Things were about to get interesting.


	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.**

 **Happy reading!**

The Escort

Chapter Five

 _A couple of years later…_

Haymitch wakes up slowly with a banging head and a fuzzy mouth, both telling him he went on a huge bender last night. As he rolls over he groans – his whole body feels bruised. But lying there on his back, staring up at the ceiling, he beings to get the distinct impression that something is not right. He looks around the room carefully and realises he is in unfamiliar surroundings. A bedroom in an apartment somewhere in the Capitol, that much is clear but beyond that he is lost.

He gets up cautiously, not because he feels he is in any immediate danger but because any quick movements might push his queasiness over the edge into full-on throwing up.

Haymitch wanders out of bedroom and finds Effie clearing away a holy mess in the kitchen. She is, for the first time he has ever witnessed, completely natural – she's not wearing a scrap of make-up, her real hair is pulled up in a messy bun and she is wearing an oversized, baggy sweatshirt and big fluffy slippers. She is the picture domesticity, well perhaps not, but it is the perfect picture to him. He finds himself smiling despite his confusion and thumping head.

Effie suddenly becomes aware of him and looks up. It's then that he sees her blotchy face and red eyes – it's clear she has been crying for some time. His smile disappears instantly as a frown replaces it.

"Hey what's going on? Are you okay?.. Why am I here?" Haymitch asks slowly and deliberately. She has continued clearing away and stuffing rubbish into a bin bag while he's been speaking and she doesn't stop to look at him as she answers.

"You don't remember?"

"No." This time she does stop, albeit momentarily and gives him a look of 'of course you don't'. He's already feeling guilty and he doesn't even know what for yet.

"I bailed you out of jail last night. Well I sent someone to bail you out. I didn't think it would do either of us any good for Snow to find out we're friends."

Now she mentions it he does have a vague memory of being in a cell last night. His recollection of the previous night is very hazy at best but it would hardly be the first time he's ended up there after a particularly heavy night. He seems to recall it having something to do with some asshole making a comment he didn't quite like at the bar he was in the night before. A comment about her, no doubt.

"How did you know where I was?" Haymitch asks – he doesn't like playing catch up but he needs to get it straight in his head so he can work out exactly what he's done to upset her so much.

They have managed to find some equilibrium over the last couple of years. He'd see her a few times when he was in the Capitol each year for the Games. They'd talk and drink and laugh and spend the whole time ignoring the obvious unresolved tension between them and trying not to jump each other. And then he'd go back to Twelve to drink himself stupid and miss her something even stupider.

"You rang me. _Repeatedly_." Effie replies coldly and he winces.

"I didn't get you trouble did I? Were you working?"

"When aren't I?" She scoffs, still not keeping still for a single moment.

Haymitch walks over to her and tries to help but she pulls the rubbish bag away from him. He ends up stopping her physically by placing both hands on her arms – his swimming head cannot take the constant movement anymore.

"I need you to tell me what I did. I obviously did something and I can't remember what it is so please help me out here princess…" His voice has taken on a rather pleading tone he does not like but can't help.

"You didn't do anything." She denies but is still refusing to look at him even though he has her rooted to the spot.

"Clearly that's not true." Haymitch pauses, she doesn't say anything. "Did I make a drunken pass at you or something?"

"No. You just said some things and it upset me okay?" He stays where he is but hangs his head in shame.

He's always had a nasty tongue when he's drunk. She helped him last night by getting him out of jail, and had the good sense to do it quietly as to not bring unwanted attention to them, and he repaid her by shooting off his mouth, calling her all sorts no doubt. He lashes out when he feels pathetic and getting bailed out by a friend that pities you is pretty pathetic. He'd have been feeling embarrassed. He'd have wanted to make her feel it too.

"Look whatever I said, whatever I called you, I'm sorry. I didn't mean…"

"You didn't call me anything." She finally looks up at him. He wishes she hadn't. "You were so drunk and so sad." He knows she doesn't mean pathetic. "And you said stuff you would never normally allow yourself to say… about your family and your girl back in Twelve before the Quell…" He drops his hands from her arms as if she's burnt them. "…About why you drink…" He actually starts to back away from her. This is worse than thinking he has verbally attacked her, he has bared his soul to her last night and from the looks of it she's been crying about it ever since. "…And about you and me… how you wish things were different."

Effie stops talking and a very heavy silence hangs in the air. After a few moments he turns to leave without uttering a word. What is there to say to that? He's been in over his head with her for years now and this is the proof. He's leaving and he's knows he won't come back – not tonight, not tomorrow, not next year, not ever. Enough is enough. He needs to leave now or this thing between them, whatever the hell it is, will destroy him.

"I wish things were different too." She tearfully calls after him just as his hand is on the door handle ready to leave. The words stop him in his tracks. "For what it's worth, I feel the same." He doesn't turn back to her but he doesn't open the door either. He remains rooted to the spot. "And it's crazy isn't it? The drunk, District Victor and the stupid, Capitol whore." That does make him turn around, his back against the door now, his own eyes burning with the emotion of it all. "We should hate each other. I represent the world that took everything from you and I should be sick with loathing that your Games are over and mine continue every night. But I'm not, _somehow_ , despite it all. When I'm finished with a client and my own body doesn't feel like it belongs to me anymore, when I literally want to crawl out of my skin and leave it behind, you're the only person that I want. Every night, I just want you and I can't even call you because that bastard has people listening to every call!"

Haymitch is half way across the room before he realises he's moving. He reaches her in a second and wraps her sobbing body into the tightest embrace he can ever remember giving anyone. It only seems to make her cry harder and he know she's not just crying about him and her or his desperate, drunken confessions the night before. She's crying for it all – her whole goddamned existence and there isn't a thing he can do about it.

"I know sweetheart, I know, I know…" He tells her over and over as he rocks her. He can think of nothing else to say. Eventually her crying stops. He continues to hold her for a long time after that.


	6. Chapter 6

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.**

 **Happy reading.**

The Escort

Chapter Six

 _Several years later… The 74_ _th_ _Hunger Games_

"Cinna, darling!" Effie exclaims loudly as she enters the penthouse suite of the Games Centre.

Katniss is standing on a small, raised step in one of Cinna's creations as he studies her intently. Haymitch is off to one side, clearly bored and irritated – he can see Katniss wearing the exact same scowl as himself. The girl is turning out to be so like him it's actually a little bit scary. He half thinks he should ask Katniss' mother if she had a one night stand with any surviving Victors around the time of Katniss' conception. It's not as if he would have remembered – he'd have been drunk out of his mind presumably, even back then.

"Effie!" Cinna replies turning towards her, they share dramatic air kisses to each other's cheeks.

Haymitch can't help the rolling of his eyes. He likes both Cinna and Effie a hell of a lot more than he likes most Capitols but even they are a little insufferable to him when they are together. Effie turns to him just in time to see his expression, she offers a sarcastic smile in response and a seed of affection drops in his stomach. He's _missed_ her. With each passing year it feels as if he misses her more and more.

"Mr Abernathy." She does a little curtsy in a mock show of respect.

"Do you always wear a ball gown to other people's dress fittings sweetheart?" Haymitch mocks right back.

She is wearing a strapless, flowing gown made of a fabric that is sheer enough to be highly indecent. The wig she has on is pulled up into some elaborate hairdo on the top of her head revealing entirely too much of the creamy, smooth skin on her shoulders and back. It is utterly distracting.

"Actually I was at a very important event with highly interesting people. You're lucky I'm here." He knows she is teasing and he smirks in response.

"We're all honoured I'm sure."

Out of the corner of his eye he can see the girl watching their interaction with interest. It is clear she instantly distrusts Effie, he can't blame her he supposes, but he can't help the uneasy feeling it produces either. He needs Katniss to trust her and fast. She won't accept her help otherwise and it is help they desperately need.

"Hello my dear you must be Katniss? I'm Effie Trinket, it's a pleasure to meet you." Effie extends her hand in greeting but Katniss does not take it. She stays deadly still, eying up the woman in front of her. Effie is of course unfazed by the clear rejection and turns back to Haymitch. "Well we certainly need to work on her charm." Katniss scowls even harder as Cinna draws Effie away to look over some sketches on a nearby table. The two talk in quiet tones, indicating frequently to the drawings.

"Who is she?" Katniss all but hisses as soon as the others are occupied.

"A friend." Haymitch answers, deliberately not giving much away.

"Of Cinna's?"

"Of mine."

Katniss' head turns so quickly he's surprised she didn't snap it.

"You don't have any friends." Katniss accuses and he couldn't really deny that. Besides, whatever the hell Effie was to him the word friend certainly did not cover it.

"Look she's the only reason we've got Cinna okay. She's also your best shot at staying alive in there so as annoying as she is you need to start listening to her, now."

"What are you talking about? How is she going to help me in the arena?" Katniss asks in genuine confusion.

"Effie knows the richest men of this city better than almost anyone. She knows what will make them put their hands in their pockets. She'll get you sponsors like nobody else can." He didn't need to add the last part – without sponsors you're as good as dead before you even get in there.

Effie had started helping him with his Tributes a few years ago. It had begun with just some little pieces of advice here and there when he happened to run into her in the run up to the Games. She'd tell him a weakness or preference of a wealthy Games supporter to help him have an angle. She'd had one of the top Gamesmakers as a client for a couple years too which was extremely helpful to him as she was able to get little hints about the arena and would what be in it. The last couple of years she'd actually met the Tributes too, helped him coach them for the interviews and processions, tried to make them as desirable as possible to potential sponsors.

It hadn't made a difference though. They'd still all died. And he can see it in her eyes that it affects her more than ever, with each passing Tribute she cares a little bit more for them. He thought she might quit – tell him that she couldn't do it anymore and he wouldn't have blamed her. She had a choice and he did not but she still she stays. He suspects she does it because it's the only thing she can do – the only way she has to really rebel against Snow. Perhaps her whole relationship, or whatever it was, with him has been about that too – her own, personal revolt. Though it kills him to think her feelings may not be as genuine as his.

"Brilliant, thank you Effie!" Cinna suddenly exclaims bringing Katniss and Haymitch's attention back to them. "Katniss come with me, I know exactly what's going to make this work now." Katniss follows Cinna from the room without a backward glance, at least she appears to trust him if no one else.

"Well, what do you think?" Haymitch asks when they're finally alone.

"I think she's very pretty which will of course work in her favour and if she's as good as you say then she could have a real fighting chance."

"But…" He could tell there was something she wasn't saying.

"She's too hard, too cold. We need something that will warm her up for them, something to make her desirable. They're intrigued by her but they don't want to fuck her yet." Haymitch winces slightly at her colloquialism. Katniss is just a child to him, he didn't want to think about her in that way but he knows others would and Effie is right, if they find her desirable they'd be more likely to pay up. "What about the boy, Peeta is it?"

"Yeah. He's good, he's strong as hell and smart, he knows how to play the game."

"But…" Effie asks in exactly the same tone he has just used.

"I don't think he has it in him to kill as many people as he might need to to win. He certainly doesn't have it in him to kill the girl."

"Katniss? Why?"

"He likes her too much."

" _Likes_ her, likes her?" Haymitch shrugs his shoulders in a non-committal answer so Effie continues. "Well that we could use. I need to talk to him."

Effie makes to leave the room, presumably to find Peeta but Haymitch stops her as she passes him, his hand gripping her upper arm insistently.

"Are you being careful? Making sure you're not being followed?" He doesn't know why he's asks really. Perhaps he just wants an excuse to touch her. She turns to answer him, her face so close to his he can feel her breath as it dances over his nose and mouth.

"Of course I am. I'm not stupid Haymitch and you and I have been doing this for quite some time now."

He doesn't know why he does the next thing either, only he knows he doesn't want the physical contact to end even though the conversation has. He leans forward and rests his forehead against hers, his rough fingers tracing invisible patterns on her arm where he holds her. She sighs and he cannot tell if it's a sigh of comfort or frustration or something else entirely.

"Please don't make this any harder than it already is." She tells him in a quiet voice that is clearly on the verge of tears. He does not reply. "We both know this can never happen." Still no answer. "I'm going to help your Tributes Haymitch, I'm going to do all I can for them because it's the only thing I can do. That's it. That's all we get – to help those kids _together_ and that's it. That's all we'll ever get."

She pulls herself from his embrace gently and leaves without another word.


	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.**

 **Happy reading.**

The Escort

Chapter Seven

 _A few days later…_

Haymitch only returns to their floor of the Games Centre when he's a hundred percent sure neither of his Tributes will be surgically altered in his absence. He is loathed to leave them at all but he hasn't slept in over twenty four hours and he knows he will be no good to them when they wake up if he doesn't have at least some rest. Because he will need to more than some good to them – frankly he's going to need to be a miracle worker to get them all out, unscathed from this.

It's the end of the Games and he still has his Tributes. Both of them. Both of them survived and are now Victors. For the first time in the seventy four year history of the Games there is not a sole winner. For once he was able to save them.

But he isn't stupid and he knows the Capitol better than most. Snow is surely furious – Katniss showed them up when she told Peeta they didn't need a Victor and readied the pair of them to take the nightlock berries. Such a clear show of disobedience will not go unpunished, no matter how hard Haymitch is trying to prove they were too crazy in love with each other to act rationally.

He draws a hand up to cover his haggard face as he enters the living area of their suite. When he drops it again he is convinced for a full minute that the vision of Effie waiting on the sofa in front of him is nothing more than a hallucination dreamed up by his overtired mind.

When she finally stands to greet him and he realises she is in fact real he almost wants to cry with the relief of it. She's the only person he needs to see and somehow she is there.

She has clearly snuck away from some end of Games celebration. Her dress is plain for Capitol standards, so she couldn't have been at some grand affair, she was probably at a smaller, more informal gathering. Though, because it is one of the more plainer things he has seen her in, he thinks it is also one of the more lovely – lilac in colour, floor length and floaty with a slit cut down to almost her bellybutton and a rather ostentatious flower on the collar by her neck. She's combined it with a short, flapper-style bobbed wig complete with a heavy fringe and smouldering make-up. On second thoughts it's not really plain at all but she looks a lot less clown-like than she sometimes does and he's so very glad for that.

As he stands there, contemplating her in blessed silence, the reality suddenly hits him and he springs into action, strolling towards her:

"Are you crazy?!" He hisses, unsure if there are any listening ears in the penthouse this late at night. "What are you doing here now of all times?"

"Don't worry, I was careful. No one followed me and no one's here but us." She reassures him. By this time they've met in the middle of the room and stand close to each other without touching. "Are the children alight?"

"For now."

"This is messy Haymitch." She tells him seriously. Funnily enough he's worked that much out for himself. His huff of annoyance is the only response. "They're angry. Really angry and I don't know what they're going to do. She's shown them up and they won't take it lightly. There will be retribution."

He's knows all of that too but somehow hearing someone else say it, confirming what he has been thinking for hours is making it all a hell of a lot scarier.

"I know. We're going to have to try and prepare them."

Effie looks down, unable to meet his eye. The look on her face is even graver than it was before.

"I can't help you anymore." He stares at her intently but does not answer. "They're going to be all over you now, all of the time. If we carry on someone will find out." Still Haymitch remains silent. "I don't care what they'd do to me anymore but I care what they'd do to you."

"What could they do to me?" He interrupts bitterly. "Who else have I got left that they could use?"

"You've got the children now." She reaches out for him, pulling him even closer so he cannot help but be entirely focused on her as she continues: "You have to look after them Haymitch."

She stares him out until he finally nods in agreement – a silent promise he will do just that. And suddenly at the natural end to their conversation Effie begins to cry. This is the final goodbye. She reaches up and wraps her arms around his neck in an intimate and strong embrace. He doesn't want to but he finds himself clinging on to her with just as much force. He turns his head to take in her scent that has become familiar to him over the last decade. And then they stand completely still for several moments just holding each other.

It's probably a good thing Haymitch is so preoccupied with how in the hell he is going to keep the kids alive and okay now. Otherwise he might have the time to contemplate just how much of an absence Effie is about to leave in his life. Somewhere along the line, completely without him realising or wanting it to happen, she has become just about the only thing that keeps him going: her and the idea that one day things would be different for them.

When Effie finally pulls apart from him she turns and gives him a lingering kiss on the cheek. It's wet from her tears but it's a promise for things that could never be and any doubts he has ever had about the authenticity of her feelings evaporate then and there.

"Goodbye Haymitch, take care of yourself too." She sniffs and turns to leave.

Like so many times before he stops her with a hand on her arm. He kisses her then. He's known her for twelve years, been in love with her for a lot more of that time than he would care to admit and yet this is their first kiss. As kisses go it's pretty terrible. Too wet and wobbly on account of the crying and him trying to keep himself from crying and it catches her off guard a little though she makes no effort to stop it.

"It won't always be this way, it can't be." He tells her, murmuring against her lips. It sounds like he is trying to convince himself more than anything. "One day, when all of this is over, when there's no more Games and no more escorting, I'm going to find you and marry you and we're going to be happy." She smiles because it sounds like such a nice little dream – a dream they both know can never really be. "So you just stay alive, do you hear me? All you have to do is survive and stay alive and when this all done I'll find you."

He's never dared to imagine a life without the Games and Snow and the rest of it. It has always seemed too terrible to him to dream of such things. But with her, the only thing more terrible than daring to imagine a different world, is to not imagine it.

"I'll try." She vows. "Stay alive yourself, okay?" He nods his vow in return.

Effie breaks away from their embrace slowly, she wipes the running mascara from her face, straightens her back and walks away without a backward glance.


	8. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.**

 **Apologies for the wait – happy reading!**

The Escort

Chapter Eight

 _A few months later… The Victory Tour_

"I swear…" Effie pants, breathless between fervent kisses, "we must be crazy," another head-spinning kiss follows, "if anyone sees us we're both as good as dead."

"You're still an Escort," Haymitch responds, just as breathless, before kissing her again. He simply can't get enough of her. "For tonight at least. Who's to say I'm not a paying client, your _finale_ performance."

Effie puts her hands on his arms to stop him. The sudden stillness feels strange – they have been constantly moving since they exited the elevator some minutes ago – a continual motion of kissing, touching and removing clothes. The strength in which she has stopped him combined with the fierce look in her eyes is making Haymitch nervous. He's scared she has just come to her senses and is about to kick him out before things go any further.

"Don't say that," she says determinedly. "Not even as a joke. You're not _that_." And by _that_ he can guess she means a client. "You were never that."

Haymitch responds by picking her, and the ridiculous puffy lavender dress she is still wearing, straight up off of the floor and falling onto the bed, trapping her beneath him. Effie squeals in surprise but is laughing whole heartedly as he continues his kissing attack on every part of her bare skin available to him. Effie catches his lips with her own moments later, their tongues battle for dominance until they pull away at last, both gasping for breath.

She reaches up and brushes away some of the hair that has fallen onto his face. The act is incredibly gentle and in complete contrast to their movements only seconds before.

"Just you," Effie suddenly whispers, now she's regained her breath. "Just you for the rest of my life, if I want. Just you."

They have both stuck to their arrangement of no contact since Katniss and Peeta were crowned Victors. Haymitch had gone back to Twelve with the kids and tried his damn-best to forget all about her. He failed miserably in this of course. And on the Victory Tour, when he could have desperately used her help to keep the kids going and Snow happy and the Districts believing their conjured up loved story, he did not call her and she had offered no help or guidance.

Haymitch had not heard or seen any trace of her until he had walked into the grounds of the Presidential Mansion earlier that evening. It was the grand finale of their Victory Tour and anybody who's anybody was there so he supposed he shouldn't have been surprised to find Snow's favourite Escort amongst the exclusive guest list.

He's entire body seemed to ache for her as soon as he had laid eyes on her. Luckily he was distracted from this by trying to stop Katniss approaching her and explaining to the girl that she wasn't supposed to know her, that only a very selective few were aware of the help she had given them during the Games. Katniss had been confused at this, she'd supposed it was Effie's job to help them and why would she think any different, he'd certainly never revealed the true reason Effie helped District Twelve – because he had asked her to. He'd explained the true nature of Effie's profession to the girl, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice as he did so, and took a stupid pleasure in the shock as it registered on Katniss' face – her eyes bulging so much he was surprised they didn't pop right out of her head.

But then, hours later and more than a few drinks in, he had found himself next Effie at the bar. She had been the perfect professional of course – giving him her best Escort smile – the one that's bright but vacant and masks a hundred different heartaches. She had casually explained to him that she was being retired, that tonight was her last official engagement as an Escort, she was too old to be desirable to them anymore. She'd even managed to sound sad about it but the joy all but burst out of her face. She was free.

And that had led them here – to tearing at each other's clothes in a lift that took them to his hotel room. An animalistic passion unleashed in them both that somehow mixed with the utmost tenderness.

"Trust me, after tonight you'll want no one but me." Haymitch replies with a cocky schoolboy tone and a childish smirk. Effie laughs again just the same and by _God_ is it a joyous sound. He could get used to hearing that every day.

The rest of the night seems to happen in an almost dreamlike state. Haymitch takes off her dress and her over-the-top jewellery. He spends entirely too much time extracting the wig and the million hairclips that hold it in place from her head. When at last he manages it, he throws away the offensive item to reveal her gorgeous, natural, honey blonde hair and he feels better the instant he sees it. He even goes to the bathroom to get a cloth and wash off the thick make-up she is wearing. Effie jokingly accuses him of ruining the mood by taking so long. He argues right back that he is creating a mood by making her look like an actual human being.

And then she is laid out beautifully bare before him, in every sense of the word, and he knows he is a goner. He knows he is going to love her for the rest of his life regardless of what happens when they leave this hotel room.

She does not give him any time to linger on the thought as she leans up and makes much quicker work of getting rid of his suit. Her fingers run all over his body, tracing the countless scars and blemishes there. She lingers on the bigger ones, the ones he got from his Games that have never really healed as they should. And then she replaces her fingers with her lips and traces the markings with her mouth. It is too much for him. Entirely overcome with the level of emotion he is feeling, Haymitch flips her over suddenly, giving him the control once more. When he finds the permission he is seeking in her eyes, he finally joins them together and he is whole.

Afterwards they lay cuddled together in a messy tangle of sheets and naked limbs. Despite the shit-storm that is surely still whirling outside of his hotel room, Haymitch feels remarkably peaceful.

"You know this doesn't really change anything," Effie says softly. It's the first words that have been spoken in a long time and they hang heavy in the air. "When we get up and leave this bed we'll still have to go our separate ways. No one can know and we can't be together."

"I know," Haymitch replies after a long pause. "But you're free. That's got to count for something."

She shifts slightly so she can look up at his face and brings her hand to graze along the stubble on his cheek.

"It does. I just wish we could be free together."

"One day." Haymitch vows, his eyes never leaving hers. She gives him a slow, lazy smile in response.

"Do you really believe that?"

How could he with the way things were? He stays quiet for several moments contemplating his answer. At last he speaks, his voice steadfast, strong, resolute:

"I have to." He tells her.

And so he does.


	9. Chapter 9

**Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me except the mistakes as this is un-beta'd.**

 **Author's note: So I've played with the storyline a little bit (more) here but it is an AU after all – also please note the rating for this one as there's quite a bit of bad language in it. Happy reading!**

The Escort

Chapter Nine

 _A Few Months Later… The Eve of the Quarter Quell_

"Is this my fault?" Effie asks suddenly, her back to him as she stares out of the penthouse window of the Games Centre. "Do you think he knows about us and that's why he's doing this?"

"Get away from the window, someone might see you." Haymitch snaps in reply, completely ignoring her question.

He knows her grief and regret are genuine but he just doesn't have the capacity to deal with them. He's sober for the first time in more than two decades just when he's never needed a drink more – he is, after all, going to his certain death in the morning. Back to the arena. Back to the Games. This time killing people he's known for years, _friends._ It's every single nightmare of the last twenty plus years come true.

Effie turns to face him but does not move away from the window.

"Does it matter now?" Her voice is laced with a bitterness he knows isn't aimed at him and there are unshed tears in her eyes.

"Snow only wants to achieve one thing with this – to get rid of Katniss. Killing the rest of us is just a happy by-product that's all and get away from the fucking the window!"

Still she doesn't move, just stays still and fixes him with that penetrating, sorrowful gaze of hers until he cannot take it anymore. He launches up from the bed he's been lounging on, strides over and grabs her forcibly by the arms, he all but drags her out of sight from the outside world. He returns to the window to shut the automatic blinds. The room is plunged into semi-darkness, the only light coming from the dim lamp on the bedside table.

"It's so unfair." She cries, finally submitting to her tears until she is sobbing so hard she can barely breathe.

It is Haymitch's turn to remain rooted to the spot. The bangle she had given him earlier is feeling tighter on his wrist. She had presented him and Peeta with gold tokens to go with Katniss' pin and her wig – four gold tokens to represent the four of them as a team. If the kids had been confused by the gesture, or by the sudden appearance of a woman they had not seen in a year, they didn't show it. But he is bloody confused. He cannot for the life of him figure out the game she is playing, all he knows is it's a stupidly dangerous one and worrying about it is distracting him from thinking about what he really should be thinking about right now – how in the hell he is going to get Katniss out of that arena alive.

"Come here," he says gently, softening at once. It's quite possibly his last night on this earth and he doesn't want to spend it being angry and upset. Frankly he wants to spend it being buried so far inside that he cannot remember his own name, let alone the fate that awaits him.

"I can't… I can't…" Effie gasps between sobs.

He approaches her again and places his arms around, much softer than before.

"It's okay Eff, just breathe, just breathe…" He tells her rubbing his hands up and down her arms in an attempt to soothe her. It has little effect. He tries to pull her closer to him but he feels her stiffen in discomfort and angle her body away from him. The rejection burns in his cheeks. "What's going on?" Effie pulls herself completely out of his embrace. Her tears have slowed but not stopped.

"I can't tell you, not now, it's so unfair…" She rambles. "I can't distract you with this not if you're to have any chance…"

"Effie I've got no chance!" Haymitch interrupts. The anger is back. "I'm in withdrawal, I can't stop shaking and I can't hit a target for shit. I don't have a chance in hell of winning this thing and even if I did I'd give it to Katniss, you know that." Haymitch takes a deep breath and manages to get a hold of his temper again. "So if there's something you need to say to me, just say it, _please_."

But she doesn't answer. Instead she stays standing silently in front of him, shivering and crying and looking completely broken. He knew how she was going to take the news of him going back into the Games, he knew how much that would affect her, how much she cared about him but this is something else. She's inconsolable.

Haymitch approaches her and pulls her to him. She doesn't draw away from him this time and instantly he knows what she is unable to tell him – he feels the delicate but unmistaken bump of her stomach against his. She's pregnant. And not just a little bit, she's been pregnant for a while by the looks of it. He's amazed the extravagant cloak she is wearing has been able to conceal it from him thus far, but there is no concealing that now. The truth ricochets around the room.

"Is it… is it… mine?" He asks at last when he is sure his voice won't completely fail him. He feels in a daze – he cannot comprehend this is happening.

"I don't know."

"What? How can you not know?!" He demands, more harshly than he probably intends but he has no control over that right now.

"I had a contraceptive implant. They must have deactivated it when I stopped working but if they deactivated it as soon as I stopped working then there is a chance that it could be someone else's." Effie explains quietly through her tears.

"You mean it could be a client's?" Haymitch spits in disgust and she nods. He can't bear the thought she is carrying another man's child. Especially the type of man that used to pay for her. It's too much. As if the Capitol hadn't fucked him over enough already, now this.

He almost asks if she wants to keep the baby. But the question seems absurd – she's kept it this far so clearly she has no intention of not having it. Though perhaps she has been forced to keep it. She may not be working anymore but she is still one of the most well-known faces in the Capitol, she couldn't stroll into a family planning centre without someone seeing her and reporting back to Snow.

"No one can know!" Haymitch suddenly exclaims, walking closer to her again. "No one can know there's even a possibility it might be mine. If they knew, shit, if they ever find out Effie…" He stops abruptly, trying to keep a lid on all of the emotion he is feeling. He should have never got involved with her. He has left them all so utterly vulnerable and he won't even be there to protect them, he'll be long dead and Snow and all the other bastards will be left to do whatever the hell they want to his child and the woman he loves, his family. "…what they'd do to a Victor's kid, even a dead Victor's kid. You've got to make up a story, a good one, one so convincing no one will ever question it. No one can ever even suspect I'm involved in any way, do you understand?"

Effie nods frantically to his desperate instructions.

"I will, I will, I will." She repeats – a mantra of a promise. "I'll look after it. We'll be okay."

He knows she is only telling him that to make him feel better. She's trying to send him to his death with some semblance of hope. But he knows the Capitol too well for that, he's been playing the game too long and he knows nothing good can come out of this. They're doomed, they're all doomed.

"Hold me," Effie suddenly requests. "Just for tonight. Make me believe we're all going to get out of this alive."

And he does. Despite everything it's probably the best night of his life – holding his entire world in his arms. For one brief, shining moment, he is at peace and then everything goes to shit.


End file.
